


The Hunting Party

by Arsenic_Lace



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Black Bulls Squad (Black Clover), Blood, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone else probably will too, Graphic Description, He will murder for his squad, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Protective Vanessa Enoteca, Protective Yami Sukehiro, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Seriously Yami would kill a man, Vebral Abuse, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21587659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic_Lace/pseuds/Arsenic_Lace
Summary: After being dragged out for a night on the town, Finral becomes separated from the Black Bulls and falls into the hands of a hunting party, who are out scavenging for their next prey.
Relationships: Finral Roulacase & Yami Sukehiro, Vanessa Enoteca & Finral Roulacase
Comments: 74
Kudos: 176





	The Hunting Party

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to focus the horrors of rape and the recovery afterward - not a kink. I did my best to gloss over the details of the sexual assault, leaving it vague rather than descriptive, but the other forms of physical assault go into more detail. These topics are very upsetting by nature, and I would not advise everyone to read. I tried to rate appropriately and add a many trigger warnings as possible. The first chapter will be the only one with this sort of violence. That is until Yami catches up and extracts revenge.

He didn’t want to go out that evening. The weather itself provided enough of a reason to stay in. Grey clouds, stuffed heavy with rain, drifted across the crescent moon, their ominous roars calling out in warning of a soon-to-be storm. It was the sort of night meant to be spent indoors, sat in bed with a good book at hand. That was precisely how Finral planned to spend the rest of his evening. Much of the day belonged to his squad mates: transporting them here and there, taking them wherever they needed to be that time. It was tiresome work, and work that he rarely got a simple thank-you for, aside from Asta that is, who was never short on enthusiastic gratefulness. But this, this final bit of the day, would be dedicated to himself.

With dinner cleared and put away and his squad mates slowly, **finally** starting to settle down, Finral opened a portal leading to his room to discreetly disappear. No sooner than he got his right foot through Yami made a declaration. 

“We’re going out.”

Of course, Finral thought as he dragged his foot back into the dining hall. How foolish of him to think there was ever a chance these people would just let him rest. 

“But it’s late!” he whined. “You have that Captains’ meeting tomorrow. Remember? It’s early in the morning, and you don’t want to be all cranky and hungover for it.”

“Those meetings always make me cranky. I’m just working ahead.”

“And this weather! I don’t think it’s anything we want to mess with.” 

A gentle purr of thunder sounded out as if to prove his point. Finral smiled. Just for a moment until he saw the irritated glint in the Captain’s eye. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water now too.” 

“No! I just think-.”

“Show of hands, who wants to get the hell out of here?”

Magna was the first to raise a hand, followed by Vanessa and then Charmy. Already Grey had scampered off, hiding away somewhere. Gauche scoffed at the idea of it. Why would he waste his time on such frivolous matters when he had Marie to talk to? Asta said he was staying in for some last-minute training with Luck, and if Asta wasn’t going, then that meant Noelle would be staying in too. 

“I can just drop you guys off and come back in a few hours,” Finral offered.

“And miss hanging out with your best friends?” Vanessa cooed, leaning into his shoulder. “Come on! It’ll be a good time!” 

Finral glanced back at the witch. The corners of his lips twitched into a weak smile. Sure - a good time for them. They were going for alcohol and gambling - he was just transportation. They’d ditch him the second of arrival, and he’d end up being demoted from transportation to babysitter. God knows their squad’s budget couldn’t handle another one of Yami’s public outbursts. But as the official chauffeur for the Black Bulls, it was the main point of Finral's duty to cater to the traveling whims of their Captain, and tonight his mind clearly had been made up. 

“Fine! Where to?”

The Dead Rat. 

Unlikely there’d be any pretty girls to flirt with there. But it was the type of place Yami would be drawn to - dim, loud, and brimming with brutish men with questionable hygiene practices. The moment Finral stepped inside he felt claustrophobic. A stale mixture of cigarettes and alcohol suffocated the air like a musty blanket. Mix matched chairs circled beaten tables, each seat nearly filled by the time the Black Bulls arrived. The room was loud with laughter and talk. Men rolled their sleeves up to their elbows, keeping a drink ready at hand, as they exchanged their best stories from the day. Near the middle, a small crowd gathered to watch a pair of brawny men go at it in an arm-wrestling match. By shouts and jeers, they goaded the competitors on, waving their betting money and slapping the tabletop in encouragement. Three older, weary-looking men a few tables away glanced over and shook their heads at the nonsense. A tired young woman, her face thin and pale with a pink-tipped nose, weaved through the narrow aisles. A circular tray made heavy with a fresh round of pints balanced under a shaky hold. She looked young, almost too young to work there, but still she smiled as she reached the awaiting table. Drinks were passed around, and the barmaid told them, her voice a polite squeak, to let her know if there was anything they needed. One man swatted at her ass as she turned to walk away, and laughter erupted from the table.

No, definitely not his crowd.

At least he had the foresight to ditch his Black Bulls robe. This wasn’t the place to boast of his career. He’d probably be better off if none of these people had any inkling of his identity. 

Just as Finral predicted, the Black Bulls scampered off to do their own thing within the first five minutes. Yami and Manga spotted a few familiar faces and promptly joined them for a game of cards. Charmy hopped away in search of food and became lost within the crowd. Only Vanessa remained at Finral’s side. They claimed an empty table and sat down to order drinks. Out of all the Bulls Finral considered Vanessa to be his closest friend. She made for good company, at least while she was interested in playing good company. When alcohol was involved, particularly when in public, it could be difficult to hold the witch’s interest. Years of being locked in a cage, completely cut off from any sliver of the world left Vanessa with a craving for freedom. This wild craving often manifested in the form of what Finral’s noble heritage would consider highly improper behavior. Vanessa made it no secret that they enjoyed flirting, and although the Dead Rat was not Finral’s cup of tea, it was filled with exactly the flavor of men she preferred to toy with.

A pair of scraggly looking men sauntered up to their table. Their hungry eyes fixed on Vanessa. 

“Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all!”

Grinning, the men sat down at the table, one beside Vanessa and the other with Finral. Finral did his best to be welcoming. He smiled at the newcomer and tried to engage in small talk. The man grumbled a couple of replies before ignoring Finral completely. His attention, as well as the other man’s, was directed solely on Vanessa. It took no more than a few minutes for their conversation to devolve into crude banter. Finral watched from the sidelines as the three shot comments back and forth. He knew the men’s noble attempts at flirting were going nowhere; not quite clever enough for her to give in. Still, Vanessa enjoyed a good game even if she knew that she would ultimately win.

And what better way to prove exactly that than a drinking contest?

The man sitting next to Finral flagged the barmaid down and ordered a double round of drinks for his new friends. Finral, who barely managed to make it through his second pint, politely turned it down. The man seemed unbothered, but Vanessa wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

“Come on, Finral! Live a little!”

After enough not entirely friendly goading, Finral gave in and decided to live a little. He pushed through his third while the others dove headfirst into their competition. He grimaced as he took another swig of beer. The alcohol was stronger than he was used to. It had a strange bitter taste to it, one that he wasn’t sure how to define. Finral sighed and looked around the bar for his friends. Everyone was still off doing their own thing.

_What’s the point of living a little when everyone is just going to ignore me?_

Halfway through the drink, a sickly feeling plodded its way into his stomach. His head swam with noise and alcohol. It pulsated against his temples, slowly creeping its way up until the entirety of his skull became infected. He sighed and leaned on the rickety table. He raked his fingers through his hair, tugging at the honey-colored strands as if to coax the pain out. Normally he wasn’t this much of a lightweight. If Vanessa was paying attention, she’d surely tease him about it. 

Fresh air. That would do.

In a whisper, Finral told Vanessa that he needed to step out and would be back shortly. She waved him goodbye with a sloppy smile. He doubted Vanessa even heard him, not when there were more important things, like winning the contest at hand. As he staggered towards the entrance, Finral saw Yami and Magna in the middle of an intense card game with a table of commoners. Finral slowed as he passed and considered telling Yami where he was going just in case the Captain got pissed and decided it was time to leave. But Yami wouldn’t care if he wasn’t there. Not for a few minutes that is, and so Finral left without saying another word. 

A huff of cool misted air blasted his face the moment he stepped outside the door. It filled his lungs, loosening his thoughts and slowly lifting the fog from his brain. A greasy drizzle fell, slickening the uneven cobblestone streets. Muted buildings sat in crooked lines. Their windows filled with warm lamplight. Despite their ramshackle appearance, Finral thought these modest commoner homes to be comfy and safe, far different from the austere home he grew up in, and he wondered what sort of lives their residents led. From the small glimpses through the windows, they looked happy. He hoped they were happy. 

Finral wrapped his arms tight around his chest for warmth and scolded himself for being for not bringing his cloak. The rain showed no signs of letting up. A distant roll of thunder revealed the brewing storm’s intentions. Sighing, he looked downwards as he continued to walk. Steady streams of rainwater pushed through the street’s cracks. Finral thought of his brother then. He remembered an autumn afternoon from many years ago, back when they were young, too young for Langris to hate him yet. For three days straight the weather was dreary and grey, and not one of them passed without a rainstorm. It was far too cold to play outside. Instead, the brothers were forced to stay indoors with only books and lessons to keep the occupied. When the third day arrived, Finral decided they spent enough time being bored, and so he grabbed their jackets, took Langris by the hand, and led him out to the courtyard. Tiny seedling pods laid scattered underneath one of tall, old trees. Both boys agreed that they looked quite similar to miniature boats. An idea hit Finral then - using the water-filled cracks in the stone, they would race their little seedling boats from one end of the courtyard to the other and whose boat reached the finish line first would be the winner.

Grown-Finral narrowed his eyes at the flooding commoners’ streets, willing the memory to reappear. Parts of it were still vivid as the day of. Quick flashes of time, perfectly captured in his mind: the splashing of puddles as they chased after their boats, the cleansing earthy smell floating in the air, and Langris’ rare but wonderful smile as they neared the finish line. In this memory, Finral saw Langris turning towards him, his face glowing with triumphant and mouth opened, ready to declare himself the winner. The words were deafened by a ruthless whoosh, the powerful wings of a hawk hailing downwards from the sky to capture its prey. 

The impact of the blow sent Finral stumbling towards the ground, nearly bringing him to his knees. Pain seared the back of his skull. Its wildfire flames spread out in all directions, traveling down his neck and into his shoulders, scorching his ears and the crown of his head. Finral staggered as he tried to regain his footing. Another blow struck before he fully stood. It missed its intended target and instead clipped the side of his head as Finral turned to catch a glimpse at his attacker. This time Finral collapsed onto the cobblestone street. The rough surface scraped his palms and the knees of his pants. Blood bubbled up from the torn skin. A pained yelp followed the thick and vicious thud of the blow, and although Finral knew it came from him, the voice was unrecognizable to his ears. It sounded more animal than human; a naughty puppy crying out in pain after being reprimanded for wronging its owner. He didn’t understand what he did wrong. He didn’t know who, in this remote commoner town, would have any reason to hit him.

Finral crouched on his knees, arms trembling under the weight of the violence, and reached for his Grimoire. He couldn’t fight back, but at least he could escape. A hand grabbed at his arm, pulling it behind his back as another one slapped across his mouth. 

“We’re going to take a walk.”

Before the third blow that would send him into unconsciousness, Finral committed one of his most fatal flaws. Whether it was from shock, fear, or just flat out stupidity, he hesitated. That’s what he always did. On countless occasions Captain Yami scolded him over it. 

_You’re going to get yourself killed._

“You didn’t kill him. Did you?”

“Moron. Does he look like he’s dead?”

Alive, and very much so. His heart thudded against his chest, echoing though his ears and perhaps the whole town. Gradually, Finral willed himself to open his eyes. All he saw were trees. Gnarled branches climbing up, weaving and winding like dark spider webs above his head. Trapped. That’s what he was. Alive and trapped; wrists pulled behind his back and bound by some sort of magical item. The steel cuffs slowly sucked the mana right out of him. His Grimoire had vanished, its solid and familiar form no longer comfortably resting against his hip. A cool breeze brushed over his bare feet. And his boots? Where were they? 

“I think he’s awake.”

Three shadowed figures stood a few feet in away. Their eyes turned down towards him, watching. A light, soft and warm as a single ember, stretched in the darkness as one man took a drag from his cigarette. The smoke swirled like a ghostly vapor around their heads, and a faint aroma of tobacco wafted through the dampened air. 

“See? Told ya he’s alive.”

The man with the cigarette crouched down beside him. As he reached forward, Finral flinched and tried to turn away. Now that the man was closer, his features were no longer mere shadows. He looked to be the type of man Captain Yami would befriend during a drunken evening in a pub. A solid man with broad shoulders and battered-handsome face. He was tall, perhaps as big as the captain, with a smile of all teeth. A happy carnivore's grin. He ran a calloused thumb over the crest of Finral’s cheek. 

“You’re not from around here. Are you?”

Was he expected to answer? Should he even answer?

Finral swallowed. “I live nearby.”

“Is that so? Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What about you guys?”

No, the other two men answered. They hadn’t seen him either. As they spoke, Finral’s eyes darted between the two figures, trying to match the voice to the shadow. One man sounded less clear. He stood furthest from the pack, his posture pulled inwards and tone quivering with uncertainty. But there was cruelty in the other’s voice, and that one lone word was enough to chill Finral’s blood. 

“That’s what I thought,” the first man said. He took another drag and blew its smoke close to his prey’s face. The smoke stung Finral’s eyes. He squeezed them shut in an attempt to relieve the irritation. “I think I would remember someone like you.”

“My friends,” Finral stuttered. “My friends, I was with them. They’re close!”

The man grinned and looked from left to right. “Friends? Don’t see any friends around here. Just us.” He traced a line, his finger grinding hard, down Finral’s breastbone. "Some friends of yours, leaving a pretty, weak little thing like you out here in the dark all on your own. They must not know what kind of creatures live in these woods.”

“We can be your friends,” the one with the cruel laugh said.

“That’s a fine idea, Murray! A fine idea!” 

Finral’s eyes flickered toward this Murray and then shifted back to the original man. “They’ll be looking for me.”

“It’s only a girl!” the third man exclaimed, his shrill voice vibrating nervously. “I saw him with her earlier, Juhl. A girl with pink hair. I saw her drinking with Ervin back at the Rat.”

“So this drunk, pink-haired bitch going to be your savior then?" Juhl laughed. “I’m shaking! So sweetheart, are you going to tell us your name?”

Another question with another answer he was not willing to give. What would Yami do? Finral wondered. Or Asta or Magna? 

There was no answer to that. They would never be in this position in the first place.

“Suppose it doesn’t matter. And to be honest I don’t really give a fuck.” The man with cigarette grinned and chuckled to himself. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” Finral whimpered. 

Juhl leaned forward, reaching dangerously closer to Finral’s face. “I’ll help you out here, sweetheart,” he said. “Are you listening?”

Yes, Finral nodded. Anything to get away from this.

"We're going to do whatever the hell we want with you, and you're going to play along. Okay?" The man lowered his hand onto Finral's neck. He caressed it gently before pressing down, cutting off circulation. Finral's eyes grew wide. "And in return I won't wring this pretty neck of yours." He removed his hand. "Now, how doesn't that deal sound?"

“What… What are you going to do?”

Two of the men chuckled. The uncertain third echoed a beat behind them. 

Again, the cruel voice spoke. “Trust me, we’ve got some ideas. You’ll be giving me a big old thank you by the time I’m through with you!”

“Hey! You’re going to have to wait your turn. I reeled this bitch in, which means I get first round. Maybe second. I’ll have to see if he’s as good as he looks.”

Second?

Finral stared at the men, searching for an answer. Danger flared deep within their eyes. 

“There’s… I have money! It’s not much, but you can-.”

Before he finished, the leader interrupted with a great whooping howl of laughter. “Usually it works in the opposite direction! Nah! I don’t want your money. I want you to kiss me.”

Finral shook his head. 

“No?” He brought a direct hit to Finral’s breastbone. Finral sputtered, gasping for breath.

“Do I seem like a man?” 

Another whack. 

“Who cares?” 

He grabbed a fist full of hair, lifted Finral’s head, and slammed it into the ground. 

“About no?”

Still holding Finral by the hair, he yanked the magic knight upwards until they were almost nose to nose. Then, Juhl smiled and kissed him. Finral took in a sharp breath. The kiss was gentle compared to violence he just witnessed, almost soft. A toxic mixture of alcohol and cigarettes burnt his nostrils. Finral thought of Yami then. He didn’t want to, but that familiar combination of scents brought his Captain’s face to mind. 

And what would Yami think of him now? Finral wondered. So weak and stupid for allowing himself to get into this sort of position. 

Knowing Yami, he’d probably laugh. 

As if he’d suddenly awoken to the reality of this nightmare, Finral jolted backward and wretched his face to the side. Juhl’s hand moved back to his neck. He lowered their bodies to the grass and straddled the other, trapping him in place. Cool dampness spread across Finral’s back. He shivered and wiggled uncomfortably under the firm grip. With a smirk, Juhl pressed the heel of his hand into his prey’s windpipe. He added a second massive paw of a hand continued to press downwards, fingers tightly wound around his windpipe, crushing and squeezing, until Finral went dizzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“What’d I tell you? You will do whatever the fuck I demand.” Juhl removed his hand and kissed the emerging bruises. He paved a trail up Finral’s neck, leading to his ear, and whispered. “Damn! You smell real nice. You’re definitely not from around here.”

Desperately, Finral tried to direct his thoughts on becoming still. Still and nonexistent. He was not here, and there was not some strange, terrible man on top of him. He was not outside in the woods, in the cold, lying on damp and muddied grass. He was… 

Not at home. He didn’t want to think about home or his friends while this was going on. He was nowhere, and Finral was nothing; anything but himself. 

A hard rush of heat grew against his thigh. 

“You like that?”

Finral shook his head.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Juhl murmured as he ground his hips against his prey. “We’re about to get to know each other real well.”

“No!” 

The only word he could muster. Hundreds more screamed through his mind, begging for release and all he said was that one tiny, pathetic word. 

“No what? Wait, don’t tell me!” Juhl rolled his hips again, this time harder, and tried to wedge himself between the other’s legs. Finral held himself together the best he could. “You’ve never been kissed? Is that it? Is that why you’re acting so shy?”

“I’ve kissed before,” Finral replied, his tone surprisingly indignant. He had – by girls. Nice, pretty and petite girls his age. Not by some old drunken mountain of a man, who wanted to break his neck.

“Doesn’t surprise me. With a face like yours, I’m sure you got loads of people lining up. But tell me.” Juhl pushed against him rougher, this time successfully breaking in. He yanked Finral’s thighs up to his waist. “Have you ever fucked before?”

Finral whimpered. The sickening heat radiated against him. His mouth went dry, leaving a taste of ash. His brain, his heart, any organ or muscle that would be useful for breaking free froze, and he lay there, still and utterly afraid. Only their clothes were separating them now. It didn’t feel like it was enough.

“What do you think, boys?” Juhl asked his companions. “Do you think he’s ever fucked before, or do we got ourselves a virgin on our hands?”

“Virgin, definitely,” Murray sneered. The other stood there, silent.

“We can take care of that.”

The noxious scent of alcohol returned as Juhl moved in for another kiss. 

No, Finral told himself. He couldn’t give in. He was a Magic Knight, after all. He may not be the strongest or bravest but being in the Black Bulls had to count for something. He at least had to try or else his squad would never let him live it down. 

Or these people might kill him. 

At this point he wasn’t sure which the worse outcome was. 

Those lips, thick, blubbery, and slick with saliva, pressed into his again. Finral opened his mouth to allow the man to slip his tongue in. Juhl smirked - the god damned whore was finally catching on. 

Finral let him do what he pleased. Hands roamed his body, grabbing and feeling every inch they could claim. His muscles tensed under their calloused touch. The other men watched. He could feel the intensity of their stare, eyes glazed over with lust, and even the mean one, who always had a comment to give lapsed into dazed silent. It was too much – the crushing weight of Juhl’s body on top of his, the hungry, piercing eyes against his skin, the suffocating smell of tobacco, alcohol, and earth. It felt as if he was being buried alive. 

But all he needed was one moment. Just the right one to strike back. 

A throaty moan vibrated from Juhl. Finral took the cue - his guard was down. He took the man’s bottom lip between his teeth. His jaw clamped down, quick and final as a steel trap. Juhl’s eyes stretched wide open, his arms flailing in panic. He sent a heavy curled fist flying into Finral’s ribs. Once, then twice. Finral held tight. He imagined his teeth piercing right through the flesh, ripping it free. And then he would be free. Surely, he would because all those awful men would be far too busy trying to salvage their friend’s bloodied face to chase after him.

There was blood, but just not enough. Juhl struck another blow, taking aim at his ribs again. The other men stepped in to help when Finral still wouldn’t let up. The quiet one took a hold of his shoulder, prying him back and urging Finral to stop. The third man, Murray, came around. He walked behind Finral, his pace nonchalant as if not too bothered by his friend being mauled, and picked up a sizeable rock lying nearby. He considered it, lifted it high above his head, and then, with a chuckle, sent it crashing it down on top of Finral’s.

“Fucking whore.”

Finral’s body went limp and crashed into the ground. A steady stream of crimson trickled its way down his forehead and washed over his left eye. He blinked furiously to keep it out.

For good measure, Murray stomped on his face. A crunch followed the solid muddied boot, and Finral cried out in pain. Blood gushed from his now broken nose and trickled down his lips and into his mouth. He rolled to his side, whimpering and mewling like an injured animal. 

"For fuck's sake! Don't kill him!" Juhl growled, his voice muffled as he pressed his knuckles to his bottom lip. He moved his head to the side and spat out a bit of blood. 

"Wasn't gonna." Murray stood over Finral, his legs spread apart and hands casually resting in his heavy woolen overcoat, and grinned. His teeth were molded yellow, long lost to decay. 

Juhl spat again. “Good. This is my catch, and I’ll fucking take care of it.” He wiped the side of his mouth clean and reached into his pocket, pulling out a fresh cigarette. He turned to look at Finral. “The hell was that for? Do you think you’re being cute?”

Finral shook his head. No – not cute. He just wanted to go home.

“Because it wasn’t. It was fucking stupid, that’s what it was! Hey, Alva! Light this sucker for me, will ya?” 

The quiet man stepped forward. Using flame magic - weak compared to Magna’s, Finral noted - he lit the cigarette. Juhl took a drag, leaned down close to his prey, and blew out another cloud of smoke into Finral’s bleeding face. “I warned you. I fucking warned you, but you’re a fucking selfish idiot who can’t listen for shit. Well pretty boy, looks like I have to take you down a notch.”

Juhl took the cigarette out of his mouth. Finral watched it balancing between the man’s fingers, unable to will himself to look at anything else. With his free hand, Juhl pressed down on the center of Finral’s chest, holding him steady against the wet woods’ floor, and leaned in closer. The predator’s grin reappeared; sharp, hungry fangs glistened behind the cigarette’s flame. Finral opened his mouth to speak. Before he got a word out, Juhl’s arm lunged forward and returned for his prey’s neck. Finral jolted his head to the left, his eyes squeezed shut, and instead of the center - Juhl’s intended target - the cigarette landed on right above his collarbone. As the ember burnt his skin, Finral’s eyes shot wide open. The pain was unbearable: nothing like he’d experienced before. His legs kicked out as limp and useless as a rag doll’s. A hideous scream escaped his mouth –

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

And Juhl clamped one of his large hands to deafen the plea. 

“Poor baby,” he cooed. He pressed in deeper, giving the cigarette a little twist before release. “Don’t worry! I won’t touch that pretty face of yours. But we ain’t done here. You bit me once, and you’ll pay double for it.” 

Finral tried to shake his head under the man’s grip. 

“Too bad! That ain’t how this works. Maybe you’ll remember this time. Can one of you idiots help me with this? It’s too hard to burn this bitch and hold him down at the same time.”

“Sure.” Murray moved to Finral’s right and knelt beside him. “But this means I get dibs on the second round. I’m not waiting around for Alva’s lame ass to get it up.”

Juhl chuckled and released his hold. Before Finral had the chance to react, a new pair of hands locked over his mouth. His eyes fixed on Murray. Apathy smoothed the man’s features. Rotted teeth peeked out from his smile. “I hope you’re ready for this,” he whispered to Finral.

Juhl pressed the cigarette into Finral’s neck again. Skin sizzled and bubbled black as a twin mark formed next to the first. Underneath the men’s strong grips, Finral’s body writhed and contorted in stiff and odd angles. All his captors could offer him was another condescending laugh. Alva cringed at the cruelty of it. But then, powered by curiosity, he took a step forward for a better view. The pathetic muted sobs made his skin tingle, and he struggled with the the urge to lick Finral’s tears clean off his face. 

“Did you learn your lesson, sweetheart?” Juhl asked as he flicked ashes free from the cigarette. 

Finral nodded. Tears fogged his vision, and the only thing he saw was the smudged outline of faces and the tree branches above. He blinked until his eyes became clear.

A crooked smirk tugged at Juhl’s lips. He held the dying cigarette up pinched between his fingers and pointed it at his prey’s face. He chuckled when Finral flinched. “You sure are a fucking crybaby. A cute crybaby at least.” He tossed the cigarette in Alva’s direction, and the man immediately ground it out with the toe of his boot. “You’re not going to scream or do anything stupid like that if I tell Murray to let you go?”

Another nod.

“Good. Good boy.” Juhl gestured to Murray as if to say ‘get on with it’. 

Murray removed his hands and slowly stood. 

“I’ll have him right back at it if you don’t listen, and next time won’t be so nice. Murray here has a mean streak, you see. He can put you in a hell of a world of hurt. Whether that happens is up to you,” Juhl said. He pulled out a soiled handkerchief and used it to wipe up Finral’s face. He tossed it aside once he finished and settled back on top of the younger man. “That’s better! Now, where were we?”

Juhl got back to work. This time Finral didn't play along. He lay limp as a trampled flower on the ground. The heels of his feet brushed against the rain-dampened grass. Finral shivered. This night was cold and unforgiving. The drizzle continued to fall, pattering down between the dense canopy of leaves. In the distance, a roll of thunder cried out with the promise of a stronger storm ahead. Juhl grunted and began to remove his pants. No sooner than he completely removed them, he took to working himself up. Embarrassed, Finral looked away and instead tried to focus on the web of trees above. Their limbs waved in a friendly greeting as a gust of wind blew through. He wondered how long he’d been out there now. 

_How much longer will this last?_

Next were Finral’s pants. A thick hand ran up his thigh, rubbing and grabbing and pushing him closer. The hand continued to explore until it reached stopped the hem of Finral’s pants and began to yank them downwards. As they slid over his hips, Finral began to beg. 

“Please, don’t. Please.”

“Look at you asking so nicely now!”

“Please. I don’t… I don’t want to.”

“Too bad. Too damn bad, because I want to fuck you.” Juhl grabbed a hold of the pale naked legs and yanked them up around his waist. “And I am going to fuck you.”

Under the dimmed moonlight Finral’s tears shimmered like iridescent jewels. He couldn’t stop trembling. They were too close. Far too close, just skin to skin, and what would follow would only be worse.

“I don’t want to be here,” Finral whimpered. 

A teardrop rolled free from the corner of Finral’s right eye. Juhl kissed it away.

“Well, you are.” 

Then without warning, he plunged into his victim. 

The world slowed down. Finral waited for the adrenaline to kick in and numb him to this horrid violation, to take him out of his mind and his body and grant him a moment of blessed unconsciousness. But it never happened. Instead, he felt everything. Every action, every bite of pain reverberated throughout his body. It clawed its way up his spine, all the way to his skull where it made itself a home. 

With the last of his energy Finral turned his thoughts inwards, making them as acute and focused as he could manage. He needed to think about something else. Anything would do. 

He wondered where his friends were. Probably still at the bar. Captain Yami would caught be in the middle of a heated card game with Magna right by his side, cheering him on. Vanessa was likely slumped over some table by now, her arm protectively curled around a half-drunken mug. And Charmy? Probably fighting for the pub’s last scraps of food. Nothing would go to waste on her watch; even if it meant spending a higher percentage of her wages than originally planned. 

Did they even notice he was gone? 

Would anyone try to find him?

Juhl finished and collapsed on top of his prey. With a sigh of satisfaction, he nuzzled in close to Finral, their faces pressed against each other, savoring the rhythm of the other’s frantic heartbeat. “That wasn’t so bad. Was it?”

Tears drenched Finral’s face. The entirety of his body ached, and his chest moved at a distressed, labored pace. Blood from his wounds began to dry, leaving his skin unbearably sticky and irritated. The combination of sweat mixed with the alcohol and tobacco on Juhl’s breath made his stomach turn. Finral sniffled. He wanted tonight to end. 

Juhl propped himself up on his elbows so he could get a better look at Finral. “Are you crying?” He chuckled as the younger man broke into a full on sob. With a patronizing gentleness he swept Finral’s bloodied chestnut blonde locks across his forehead and kissed his cheek. “Poor baby. Poor, poor baby,” he soothed. Beside them, his friends laughed. “How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one and can’t take a dick,” Murray scoffed. 

Juhl grinned at him. “I guess I did him a real favor then.”

Finral flinched. “Can I go home now?”

“I don’t think so. After that little show we put on, I’m sure the other guys are just itching to have some fun with you.”

“No! Please, I want-.” Finral looked between the men, his eyes wild with desperation. He stopped on Alva. “Please,” Finral begged. “Please let me go.”

“He’s not going to help you,” Juhl said. “Hell, he wanted to jump you the moment I dragged your unconscious ass over here.”

Finral tried again. His eyes never left Alva’s. “Tell them not to hurt me, please. I… I just want to go home.”

Murray started mimicking their victim and acted like he was crying. He burst into a high pitch maniacal laughter at his own joke. 

“I won’t tell anyone what happened,” Finral pleaded, now focusing on the leader. “I promise I won’t!”

“Of course you won’t!” Juhl exclaimed. He kissed Finral’s lips. “If I ever catch a word of you running your mouth, I’ll kill you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s see if he can survive me first,” Murray said as he tramped over. Juhl moved aside and let his companion take his place. Grinning, Murray position himself between Finral’s legs. He grabbed at his thighs, dirtied nails digging deep into the soft flesh. “If you thought Juhl was the worst of it, well I’m sorry to say you’re wrong. You’re royalty, aren’t you?”

Finral didn’t answer.

“You are. I can tell by your face. That chin and those cheekbones. And those eyes! What color are they?” Murray asked. Finral cringed as the disheveled man leaned in closer. “Can’t fucking tell. But you’re definitely royalty or nobility. Not that it matters since they’re pretty much the same.” The sharp ends of his teeth lightly ran over Finral’s neck. “I can’t fucking stand either of them.”

As the second man pierced his body, Finral felt nothing but pure hatred from his assailant. This man wanted to cause harm. Finral was no stranger to animosity. It was about all his family showed him throughout childhood. Always, they found one thing or another to criticize him, and in rare moments with his squad mates he felt - or so he convinced himself - a similar yet lesser level of disdain. But those people knew him: they had a reason to be hostile or irritated in the least. This man, Murray, had never seen him before, not before tonight. They’d never spoken so much of a word, but that hatred existed, deeply rooted to his core, radiating so bright that it wholly illuminated his eyes. Its dangerous glint terrified Finral, and he turned his head to look away. 

“What’s wrong? Ain’t I pretty enough for you?” Murray roughly seized his prey by the face and forced Finral to look at him. Finral kept his eyes squeezed closed tight. “Look at me, you stuck-up little whore! Do you think I’m ugly?”

“No!”

“Don’t look away from me again.” A wolfish snarl broke across Murray’s face. He scraped his teeth down Finral’s neck again, stopping right above the shoulder, and bit down. The teeth dug deep, splitting skin and pulling at flesh. An animalistic growl resounded in Murray’s throat. Hot panting breaths puffed from his flared nostrils and steamed against Finral’s body.

This time their prey’s screaming was too much for Alva to handle. He scrambled forward, dropped to the ground by Finral’s head, and shoved his hands over the gaping mouth. Sweat seeped over his panic-sickened face. The scream pulsated against his hand, and Alva pressed down harder, crushing the breath out of Finral. Their eyes met. Alva chewed on the inside of his lip. He couldn’t stand those violet eyes, the desperation and glaring fear. Given the chance, he’d snuff the light right out of them - make it easier to for all of them. Those other boys didn’t give near this much trouble. Why did this kid have to make it difficult?

Why couldn’t it end?

“The fuck are you doing?” Murray asked through panted breaths. 

“You’re an idiot!” Alva spat. “Someone will hear!

“Yeah? I want to hear him scream.”

“I can’t afford for us to get caught!”

Juhl heaved a sigh. “Will you two shut up?” he said as he strode over to the others. “But Alva’s got a point. You’ll ruin the fun for all of us if you keep going like this.” He nudged Alva with his foot. “I’ll take care of this.”

Alva glanced at him. Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away and Juhl quickly knelt at Finral’s head and concealed his mouth before another scream could escape. With his free hand, he gently stroked the young man's hair. "That Murray is so mean, isn’t he?” Juhl said with a patronizing softness. Finral’s tear-filled eyes flickered up at him. “You know, it’d start to feel a whole lot better if you’d just relax.”

“Don’t lie to him,” Murray growled. Spite dripped from his words. He roughened his pace, grinning as his prey’s garbled moans and sobs creaked through Juhl’s steady hand. “This is what you deserve. Dumb fucking bitch.”

Finral’s eyelashes fluttered like manic butterfly wings, delirious from pain. Hurt – never before had he felt so much violence. It was as if these men were trying to rip him to shreds. 

Where was Yami?

After some time, too much of it, it was finally over. 

Murray stood up with a satisfied smile and wiped himself clean. “Alright Alva, it’s your turn!”

Alva stared down at the mess. There was red everywhere. Blood covered Finral’s face. It matted his hair and slicked the inside of his thighs. Crimson streams trickled down the shivering legs and fell to the grass where it formed a dark shimmering puddle. A set of jagged, fiery red teeth marks marred the crook of his neck. Alva’s stomach twisted into a sickly knot. 

“You can’t expect me to touch that.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem before,” Juhl said.

“It’s gross! That face, I don’t even want to look at it.”

“Then turn the bitch around and fuck him that way,” Murray sighed. “Hurry up! We don’t have all night.”

Alva looked between his companions and their prey. They were waiting for him. He clenched his teeth together and shook his head. He knelt beside Finral, cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, and prepared to flip him over. Then Alva paused. 

“Sorry,” he whispered.

A voice rang out through the trees. Finral’s body tensed in alert. 

“Finral!”

It was distant but he recognized it right away. Charmy.

“Finral, where the heck are you? We’re ready to go!”

“Finral,” Juhl echoed, cocking his head to the side. “Is that you?”

Hesitantly, Finral nodded. 

“Guess your friend is looking for you.” Juhl stood and walked over to grab Finral’s pants. When he started to slide them back on to their owner, Murray growled in protest. 

“You’re just letting him go?”

“Yup.” He fastened Finral’s pants, yanked him up, and tenderly caressed the curve of his bruised face. “There you are, sweetie.”

“We didn’t even get to do anything.”

“Don’t see why you’re whining, considering you’ve already had your turn.”

“That was nothin’!”

“Do you seriously want to get caught?” Alva asked. His body relaxed as if he too was being granted freedom. “Because I don’t! Do you know how hard it was for me to get-.”

“That sounded like a girl. We can take on a girl,” Murray argued. 

“There’s more than just a girl,” Juhl replied. He took Finral by the chin and forced him to make eye contact. “I’m letting you go. Yeah? I’ll let you go alive, just as long as you do me this one little favor. Once I undo this nifty binding item, you’re going to kiss me. Sounds good?”

Finral nodded. The cuffs were removed, leaving deep reddening marks on his wrists. Juhl took ahold of them and wrapped them around his neck, pulling Finral in closer. He forced his way into Finral’s mouth - not that the younger man gave much of a fight. There was no fight left in him, and he was almost free to go. 

“I know you won’t be forgetting about us anytime soon, and I won’t be forgetting you either. In fact, I’ll be thinking about you tonight and every night on.” Juhl kissed him again. He broke away and turned Finral around. He gave him a shove forward, taking the chance to swat at his ass. “Go on now, honey. We’ll see you later.”

Finral stumbled. His eyes darted around the area and spotted his Grimoire not too far away. He snapped his arm forward and grabbed ahold of the book by its front cover. With his Grimoire now back in his possession, Finral ran. Cold mud loosened from the rain squelched beneath his feet, and tiny rocks and fallen sticks stabbed at his soles. 

His boots. He left them behind, and the leather carrier for his Grimoire too. 

That didn’t matter now. He needed to keep moving, to get to safety. Shock waves of pain spread all throughout his body with each step. It’d be far easier to create a portal, but his mana was dangerously low, and he still needed to get his friends back –

His friends.

Finral’s pace slowed down until it totally stalled out. He leaned against a tree for support. It’s rough and jagged bark dug into his arm. Air caught in his throat.

His friends. What would they say? 

Would they laugh at how weak he is? 

Would Yami get pissed and make him go back to fight his attackers to prove he was a real man?

Finral slumped further down the tree. His brow knitted in pain. Droplets of blood fell from his nose and plopped onto his tunic. Using a sleeve, Finral wiped at his face, trying to clear away the evidence of his night. He whimpered when he bumped his nose. Red soaked into the green threads, nearly ridding completely of its original color. Finral sighed and held his arms stiffly around his chest for comfort. He didn’t know how he would explain this to the Black Bulls. 

And his family. That would be even worse. 

They couldn’t know. No one could know. 

Not far in the distance, a warm yellow light caught Finral’s eye. He was closer to the village than he thought. Finral pushed himself off the tree trunk and continued on. The ground spun under his feet. He crept along the edge of the woods, using the trees for coverage with the hopes of sneaking past his squad mates. Perhaps they’d be too intoxicated to notice anything was off and he’d be able to follow behind undetected. 

“Finral, you useless bastard! Where the hell are ya?”

“Finral,” Vanessa’s drunken sing-song voice rang out. “Captain says it’s time to go!”

“The dummy is probably chasing after girls still,” Magna said. A crestfallen Charmy hung around his shoulders. A threatening gurgle rumbled in her stomach, and she bent forward to nibble on Magna’s jacket collar. “Charmy, what the hell?”

“Sorry, I’m just so hungry!”

“How is that even possible? You just spent an entire month’s worth of wages on food.”

Finral lingered behind a tree, watching and waiting for the group to pass. Once they were several feet ahead, he hurried on to the street. “Hey guys!” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m here! Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“About time,” Yami grumbled.

“Did you manage to get lucky?” Vanessa asked.

“No. Not exactly.”

“What a surprise!”

No one bothered to look back at him as they continued walking. The tension in Finral’s shoulders melted. With each step tremors of intense pain reverberated through his body. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control to not cry out or whimper or make any sort of noise that would draw attention towards him. But there was a comfort in walking across the cobblestones. The stones felt solid and safe beneath his bare feet- the earth wouldn’t swallow him whole here. He listened to his squad mates chatter on about their time at the Dead Rat. Magna overtook most of the conversation with a fervent retelling of a card game Yami dominated. Vanessa interjected every so often with comments of her own, most of them meant to tease Magna about his lack of card playing skills. 

The hairs on Finral’s arms and neck prickled when he picked up foreign voices nearby. Gruff, masculine voices braying out in laughter. Bile burnt his throat. Finral swallowed it and he quickened his pace a few steps to stay with his crew. 

They reached the edge of the village, and Finral forced enough mana to open a portal leading back to their hideout’s commons room. Charmy leapt in without giving it a second glance. When Vanessa stumbled through Finral breathed a sigh of relief. He was almost home free. He could go to bed just as he originally wan-

“What the hell happened to you?”

The bile returned, and this time Finral barely kept it down. He whipped his head in Magna’s direction. Bemusement tweaked lips into an awkward, lopsided smile as if Magna was trying to gauge the seriousness of the situation. Concern, above all else, overpowered his features, and it only made Finral feel worse. Yami was looking at him now too. A cigarette rested casually in his mouth, but the hardened expression he wore was anything but detached. Finral flinched under the intensity of his Captain’s gaze and averted his attention back to the portal. 

“N-nothing!”

“Did you get into a fight or something? Your face is bleeding.”

“No! It’s nothing, really!”

“And where the hell are your shoes?”

Finral ignored the question. He kept his eyes fixed the portal. His brow sloped in desperate concentration. 

“You flirted with the wrong girl, didn’t you? You tried to flirt with a girl, and her boyfriend came along and beat you up. That’s totally it. Right?”

“Would you shut up and go already?” Yami said.

Magna hesitated. His eyes bounced from Finral to Yami. The cooled steely expression on the Captain’s face was warning enough. “Yes, Captain Yami Sir!” Magna said without his usual enthusiasm. He gave Finral one last look before disappearing through the portal.

Silence suffocated the air. Finral held his breath, trying to steady the pain and keep his focus on the portal. Frustrated tears leaked down his cheeks. 

_I didn’t even want to go out tonight. Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?_

Finally Yami spoke. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

The distant voices returned. Now, they sounded closer. Finral’s hand trembled violently and his knees knocked together under the pressure. The pain was getting to be too much. He just wanted to go to bed. “I don’t think I can hold this much longer,” he stuttered. “Can we please go?”

Yami took a drag from his cigarette. “We’re going to talk about this when we get back.”

He was gone. Finral followed shortly after, shutting the portal as swiftly as possible. Before Yami could say anything, he warped into his bedroom using his last bit of magic and crawled into bed. 


End file.
